Probably my stupidest incident was three years ago on New Year's Eve. I was bartending, as I have the last six or seven New Years. New Year's Eve isn't ever super busy, but it's cool because it's a special occasion and all the employees do a pretty good amount of drinking.

This was no exception, and I was getting into EVERYTHING. Remember, I'm behind the bar, with hundreds of liquors and a hundred different beers. I don't even remember everything I had other than that it was like a freakin all you can drink buffet.

Midnight comes, and we do a massive champagne toast (we poured a couple hundred glasses of the stuff). Then we roll out a big breakfast table, with eggs, sausage, beans and rice, a mega spread. I get into all of it, basically gorge myself. By closing time, which is 2am, I'm good and wasted, and pretty much stumbling around behind the bar.

It is at this time that I notice all these partially full bottles of champagne in our ice wells, and get the great idea to start chugging the stuff. I finished off three or four half bottles, give or take, and finish closing, or so I thought. I was really just knocking stuff off the counters and not really getting anything done.

Finally, it's time to leave, and one of the cocktail waitresses asks me if I'm okay to drive. I say, well, if you're asking, I'm probably not okay. I get a ride with the other bartender and one other guy that works at the bar. Little did I know, in my massively inebriated state, that they were both hammer-wasted as well. So we all clamber into my friend's truck, and they decide they want to smoke a joint. So they drive into the neighborhood behind the bar and start puffing it up.

It is at this point that I'm starting to fill like utter sh|t, and mumble something about being sick. They pull over in front of some random house, and start yelling for me to get out and do it. So I flop into the yard, and start heaving it up, while they cheer me on at the top of their lungs.

After a few minutes, I basically crawl/mountain climb back into the truck, which seems to be ten storeys tall at this point. They're hootin and hollerin about how awesome that was, and we proceed to cruise the rest of the neighborhood with them smoking a joint and shouting and screaming out the windows while I hang my head out the window and spray a steady stream of tex-mex breakfast/champarge vomit, almost like a trail of bread crumbs, wherever we go.

We finally end up back at my friend's place, where I collapse on his living room couch and pass out. I called my brother the next morning to pick me up, and was basically non-functional the entire day. Luckily, that was a leap year, so I got a refund on that day at the end of February.

Did I mention that this neighborhood behind the bar I work is one small town, and that there is a police station right across the street from the bar? I have no idea in hell how we didn't manage to get pulled over and arrested that night. We tried pretty hard, and it was New Year's Frickin' Eve. Ah well.

I'll Post two of my stories for your guys approval, tell me how i did since i am still young and have many more mishaps to come:

Both take place in Bavaria...

First, at my birthday party we had a huge party at one of my friends house, and in the true bavarian style, they made me drink way too much. What happened was i ended up walking home with the sun slowly rising and finally got to my host families house. My key wasn't going in the hole, and i was feeling sick and couldn't hold it any longer...i puked all over the porch and a little on the side near the mail box. But, here's the great part: after quick inspection of why my key wasn't going in i realized...IT WASN'T HIS HOUSE!!!! I was two houses down and with a little grin, stumbled over to the right house and went downstairs to sleep. Woooohooo, that was close!

Next, one night after drinking 4 Liters of some hardcore Bavarian Dunkel at a medieval festival, i get picked up by a friend who informs me that we're going to a friends party. Once i get there, they're taking shots of tequila...and in my mind, acting like pussies. So i grab the bottle and start chugging. OH GOD. After that, i was king of the world, went outside, and hopped on a tractor apparently claiming: "I'm American! I can drive this thing!" Once i had it running, it started rolling no faster that .5mph and that's when i passed out in the drivers seat. Everyone who was reasonably sober tried to turn it off but couldn't figure it out, and since they couldn't really get me off they let me stay on there. I don't remember anything. But what i do remember is waking up in the middle of a field in Bavaria with the sun shining through the field's morning fog and wondering why the hell i was on a tractor in the middle of the field. It ran out of gas and i was all alone. Once again, i eventually stumbled back home and passed out only to hear about it the next month from all of my buddies.

SWMBO was out of town from Mon - Fri last week. She came home late Friday night so I had a couple bottles of wine waiting so she could unwind and relax. We killed both bottles before going upstairs to "reaquaint" ourselves.

On Saturday, she felt like crap all day. I felt fine. So fine, that I decided to work on the garage, getting it all organized. I went out and bought a workbench and installed it. The box weighed 130 pounds, and I loaded and unloaded it solo. Strong like ox!

Later, my back started to get sore so I took a Vicodine, then went back to work. Around 5:30, SWMBO is so proud of my work that she decides to make dinner for me and let me relax with a bourbon. After dinner, we decide we need wine and maybe a martini so I run across the street to pick up wine and vodka.

She killed an entire bottle of white wine and I polished off half a bottle of Maker's Mark before we decide it's martini time (after getting Miles to bed). I had bought a brand called Sex. We ended up killing that bottle rather quickly and decided we needed more, so it's back to the liquor store for more vodka and wine. We came back and watched American Idol (DVRd) as we finished our last martinis with Sex vodka.

Next thing I know, I hear Miles crying. To my surprise, I'm in bed. SWMBO comes into the room with Miles and puts him in the pack and play, then she climbs in bed. Neither of us know what time we went to bed. I go downstairs to get Miles a bottle of water and I see the bathroom sink is filled with vomit. I noticed that the two bottles of wine and second bottle of vodka are still untouched.

Upon returning upstairs, I see a vomit ring around SWMBO's mouth.

We spent a good portion of yesterday trying to figure out what happened. Neither of us remembers seeing the end of American Idol, but we also don't recall me going to bed or her throwing up.

She was incapacitated almost all day yesterday. I ended up putting a couple more hours into the garage, and I racked my newest beer to the corny and put it on CO2.